


No answers

by kitbug



Series: Moments between rifts [9]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Break Up, F/M, Post Crestwood, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-23 01:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17673659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitbug/pseuds/kitbug
Summary: Lavellan doesn't handle her break-up at Crestwood very well, and Solas intervenes.





	No answers

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [EllsterSMASH](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllsterSMASH) for giving this a once or twice over for me, despite googledocs attempts to _ruin everything_.

“Inquisitor.”

Ren winced despite herself.  It felt so wrong. So cold, coming from him.  She wasn’t drunk enough for this. For him. She took a long drink from the bottle of sweetened rum Cabot left on the bar for her before retiring for the night.   


“What do you want, Solas?”  Her voice came out harsh, burned by alcohol and thick with tears she didn’t want to shed.  Not for him. Not anymore.

“If you continue drinking like this, Corypheus will have no need to kill you.”

So, her week of hangovers hadn’t gone unnoticed, despite the void of contact between them since returning from Crestwood.  She’d gone to him that first night, and he’d given her nothing but cold professionalism.

She glanced over her shoulder.  He stood in the doorway of the empty pub, his face schooled into a neutrality as impenetrable as stone.  It hurt to see him like that. Not when his eyes used to light up, the corners of his mouth upturn when he caught her looking at him.   She turned back to the bottle. Her naked face stared back at her from the amber glass, and she drank again before responding.

“Are you here to talk or to drink?”

“Neither.”   


“Then fuck off.  I’m not finished until this is empty.”  She rested her chin on her elbow, not willing--or able, really--to hide her depression.

It was petulant.  Childish. Baiting him into drinking to get her to stop.  She didn’t care.

A heavy, wearied sigh was all the answer she received, and then the bottle disappeared from her hand as he took the seat beside her and drank.

“There is nothing to talk about.”

Liquid courage and anger numbed her to his feigned indifference and she spun on the stool to face him.  That there was no audience this late emboldened her further.

“Maybe if you gave me some fucking answers, I wouldn’t have to search for them at the bottom of a bottle,” she snarled and was gratified to see him flinch.

He recovered quickly, and that galled her.  “There are no answers I can give you that justify what I did to you.”

She met his gaze evenly and spat, “I don’t want a justification.”

“Then what  _ do _ you want?”

“I want to know if it was all a lie!”  The tears started and she angrily swiped them away with her sleeve.  “I want to know if anything we had was real, or if I was just some foolish plaything for you to amuse yourself with.  I want you to tell me that I was and it was all a fucking lie so I can write you off as a heartless bastard and get on with my life!”

The flash of hurt in his eyes vanished as quickly as it appeared.  She wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t imagined it. She hoped she hadn’t.  He took another long pull on the bottle before answering. Emptied it.

“I can’t.  It was not a lie,” he said with a quiet finality that left her no room for doubt.

“Then what  _ did I do _ ?”  Her voice shattered with a sob.  “I can’t-- I can’t make it right if you don’t tell me what it was.”

He winced like she struck him and he turned back to the bar.  He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “You did nothing wrong.  The onus is mine alone.”

“Then  _ why _ ?”

Her forehead fell forward onto his shoulder.  He didn’t push her away. But he didn’t move to comfort her either.  She desperately wanted him to. He let her stay, unmoving, until she withdrew with a wet snuffle.

“It’s late,” he said gently.  “You should sleep.”

She let him guide her back to her quarters.  Once, there had been an arm slipped around her, an embrace disguised as help, and quiet sweet nothings murmured between them. Now, there was only a hand on her shoulder as he silently supported her drunken stumble up the stairs.  He turned to leave her there with no more than a subdued good night, and she grabbed his hand to pull him back as she had twice before when he’d been hesitant to return her feelings. He didn’t allow himself to be pulled back this time, and her tears returned, fat and slow down her face.

She went to him instead, leaned against his chest, and willed him to hold her.  He didn’t, but neither did he push her away.

“What won’t you tell me?” she asked quietly.

“Telling you that would only serve to distract you from what you must do now.”

“You say that like this isn’t.”

“It shouldn’t, and it can’t.”  He withdrew, forced her to stand on her own.  “Harden your heart to a cutting edge, and use that against Corypheus.”

He reached the door and she called to him, “And after?  Will you tell me then?”

He stilled, steeled, and answered.  “When I am able to, I will tell you everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Angsty shit is outside my comfortable box of fluff. I tried. XD
> 
>  
> 
> [Read here on tumblargh! ](http://kittlesandbugs.tumblr.com)


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